


Playtime

by amyfortuna



Category: The Silmarillion and other histories of Middle-Earth - J. R. R. Tolkien
Genre: Baby Dragon, Gen
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-11-25
Updated: 2016-11-25
Packaged: 2018-09-02 04:08:16
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 500
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/8650771
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/amyfortuna/pseuds/amyfortuna
Summary: A cute little baby dragon escapes his handlers to have a fun time outside, and a very rude band of Elves send him crying back home.





	

**Author's Note:**

  * For [Sleepless_Malice](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Sleepless_Malice/gifts).



Unlike the snivelling Orcs, Glaurung was not afraid of the Sun. Long kept in the close womb of Angband, he could sense the warmth of the light and yearned to find it. 

One day, he broke the chains that bound him, and set off as fast as his small legs could carry him, up and out, into the sunlight. He had a few minutes' head start, or the Orcs would've caught him. When they chased him, he huffed a fiery breath back and carried on running through the wide halls. 

At last he emerged from the gates of Angband and stood blinking in the daylight. Fire called to fire across the expanse of space, and for a moment he stretched like a great cat, enjoying the freedom and the warmth of the summer day. 

Then he ran again, further from the gates, out into the wide plain. Joy at his freedom overcame him. He came across some sheep that grazed on the fresh green grass, and wasted no time in devouring them one by one, not even noticing the hapless Elven shepherd, who ran like the wind. To finish up, Glaurung ate the sheepdog too, and then settled down for a peaceful nap in the afternoon light. 

Freedom was happiness. He passed several days in much the same way - roaming the plain, eating any sheep or horses that he happened across. Everyone and everything fled before him, and he growled out joyously, breathing out flame. He set trees and fields alight for the pure and simple delight of watching them burn, saw the flames spread to scattered houses and haystacks, laughed as crops burned and farmers fled. 

He was Glaurung the Mighty, Glaurung the Dragon, and no one could stand in his way! 

The thunder of galloping horses grew nearer one fine morning, and snorting, he turned to face them, to see if he could snatch a few of the weaker ones from the herd. 

But these horses were mounted, and on them were Elves, clad in armour, their faces fierce and bright. Their leader, a tall Elf with gold braids in his dark hair, raised his bow, and cried out a word to his followers. 

And Glaurung was overwhelmed by stings. Dragonskin was very tough, and even the metal arrows of the Elves could not pierce it. But they could annoy him greatly, and so they did. He sprang into their midst, crushing the life out of a few of them, Elf and horse alike, but the leader skilfully steered his horse away, and called out again in the flowing tongue of the Elves. 

Again the stings bit into him, and he let out a mighty breath of flame, which did not daunt them. Arrow after arrow pierced his skin. He began to be afraid for his more tender bits - his eyes, his underbelly, his mouth. A wound there could and would kill him. 

With a final waft of flame, he turned, racing back to Angband. Playtime was over.

**Author's Note:**

> Poor widdle Glaurung, bullied by the bad mean Elves! _Revenge_ , he vows. _One day_.


End file.
